


Cruel

by shame_on_me



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Forgiveness, M/M, Shimadacest Week, Sibling Bonding, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-25 14:46:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12038130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shame_on_me/pseuds/shame_on_me
Summary: from Shimadacest Week for the prompt "forgiveness/reconciliation."





	Cruel

Hanzo had known he was wrong to kill Genji, but he had been coerced into the logic of the decision, the justifications repeated into his ear relentlessly until he half believed he had no other choice, that his father even wanted this to happen.  There too had been a genuine fear that the elders would have Genji murdered by someone else if Hanzo refused to do it or if he failed, and then have Hanzo killed afterward to cover it up.  At that time, he remembered the clan’s power and influence were being tested by rival groups, and Overwatch had signaled its intent on bringing down the weapons dealing business in Japan.   No doubt the elders had been waiting for the moment of their father’s death in order to finally eliminate the tarnish the two of them had brought upon the Shimada name.  For as irresponsible as Genji had acted, wasting the family’s money frivolously, getting caught on social media, or worse, with boys and girls who could have been using his favor to extract information, Hanzo had not been able to live up to such impossibly high standards either. There had been several bad omens at Hanzo’s birth, so they had told him, and combined with the rumors that he had been conceived before his parents’ wedding day, it had cost him legitimacy in the eyes of the superstitious elders.  Even after his spirit dragons manifested and cemented his position as the heir, after all of the work he did at his father’s side for the sake of the clan, the pall of impending misfortune never really lifted.  Hanzo felt certain that even if he did everything right and obeyed the elders’ every command, sooner or later something would happen to the family business that they could blame on him, and he would be deposed and thrown out.  The council had made it clear years ago they did not love him, nor Genji, not the lowborn woman who was their mother, not even the fool who dared to love his family who was their father.

It was for the best that he give Genji a swift and honorable death now, by a traditional duel instead of the execution they would have granted lesser members.  Then Genji would no longer be torn between his freedom and having to stay by Hanzo’s side, he would be released from the tyranny of custom and family ties, and Hanzo would assume his father’s legacy, his burden on his own.  The elders would retract their criticism of Genji after his honorable death, they would bury the younger Shimada beside their mother with praise, they would certainly acknowledge Hanzo’s leadership; all this was promised, and Hanzo, so much the fool, believed they would deliver.

It was for the best, Hanzo had convinced himself, up until the moment he wrapped his shaking arms about his brother’s bloody corpse and realized he had killed the only person left whom he loved and who loved him in return.  Then it was too late, and Hanzo saw with clear eyes how he had been deceived.  The elders did not care if either he or Genji died, for they would simply pressure the remaining heir, weakened without his brother’s support, turning him into a puppet before disposing of him and instating some easily manipulated, dragon-less cousin instead.  Undoubtedly they would have preferred the brothers kill each other at the same time, two birds dead by one blow. 

His suspicions confirmed when he suddenly gave up his position as the leader of the Shimada and exiled himself, and the council moved to take over easily, as if they had planned this years ago.  Probably at the same time they resolved to hire assassins to kill him.  But Hanzo avoided death, month after month, year after year, even though he drank himself nearly to the point several times.  Something or someone was keeping him alive for some reason. Genji’s spirit, he had thought, haunting him out of revenge, to make him suffer for his sins.  Only later did Hanzo discover it was actually Genji himself, and it had not been for vengeance.  Not quite, anyway.

 

“I mean yeah, for a while it was hilarious to watch you fall to pieces and come back to Hanamura to pay your respects to me once a year, when I could have given you a break any time and let you know I was still alive.” 

Sitting next to him on a courtyard bench, Hanzo stared at his brother’s visor in unhappy silence.  “But…?” he ventured after a pause. 

“What do you mean, but?  It was fucking hilarious.  Still is.”  A harsh, mechanical snigger, a twinkle of neon green lights under a clear night sky. 

He should have known better than to expect a real answer, but Hanzo helplessly closed his eyes and exhaled slowly in an older sibling type gesture he had done a thousand times before, which had Genji cackling in glee. 

“Anija…” he said as soon as he calmed down, his tone almost playful despite his cold, cold words, “you shouldn’t have killed me, you shouldn’t have even thought of it.  Why did you?  Did you hate me that much?”

“No, Genji, never,” Hanzo murmured, shaking his head in anguish.

“If you had really wanted me dead, you could have just shot me, two bullets in my brain.”  Genji put two fingers up to his temple, made a sound, bang, bang, and Hanzo flinched.  “Instead you made me suffer, you slashed me into pieces and burned me alive, and you watched me die the entire time.  But I never died!  What even was the point of all that, Hanzo, if you didn’t hate me?” 

“I…”  He had no answer, no words that would mean anything, not from a killer’s tongue.  Genji was right, he knew how to use a gun, it would have been a sure and quick death, if not honorable.  Killing Genji by katana had been for his own vanity…  Trembling, Hanzo stared at the paved ground, though he could not see clearly, as if he had been plunged underwater.  Perhaps he _was_ drowning, that would explain the trouble he had drawing breath. 

Genji made a humming sound, continued absently, “At the same time, if you hadn’t attempted to kill me, we wouldn’t have gotten a second chance like this.  It’s not the same, not ideal, not what we dreamed of together, but… it really was for the best, even if we didn’t think so at the time…” 

_For the best._   The same words Hanzo had used to convince himself to fratricide.  Hearing those words from his little brother, from the ruined and rebuilt body that he was partly responsible for creating, made him want to tear out his hair and scream in shameful frustration.  “Genji… how?” Hanzo whispered, agonized.  “How can you sound so light-hearted when I took the best years of your life away from you?”

“Because… these are the best years of my life now, with the two of us together once more.”  Genji’s voice buzzed calm and reassuring through its filter.  “I may not have my own body, but what I have instead is better.  Is this… not what you wanted, brother?” 

No.  He wanted his old brother back, the pretty sparrow boy, smooth skin, guts intact, the irrepressible sibling at his shoulder in the photo in the frame.  He wanted a memory that no longer existed, which he never deserved to see again, but which he had clung to like a lifeline, until it was cruelly taken away from him in the admission of a cyborg who would remind him every waking moment of the worst day of his life.  Hopeless, without any way to express even a fraction of what had been churning through his mind since their reunion, Hanzo began to cry.  For the first time in ten long years, he wept.  Ugly hiccupping sobs, hot tears and snot streaming unheeded down his face and throat while he wailed out the sorrow and guilt he kept to himself all this time. 

“Anija…” Genji murmured, a little remorsefully, one hand reaching up to rub Hanzo’s shoulder comfortingly.  He held him close in a brief moment of quiet support before saying, “Aww, anija, I didn’t mean to make you cry like this.” 

Hanzo stopped mid sob to glare up at Genji.  “Yes you did,” he hissed, although through his stuffy nose it sounded far less intimidating.

Out of habit, out of muscle memory, Genji slumped and sighed, concerned, uncertain.  “C’mon, Hanzo, you know I was just… playing.  You’re not mad, are you?”

“Of course I am.  But I am angry at myself.”  Swallowing back another whimpering sob, Hanzo scrubbed at his red eyes, breath coming out in uneven gusts.  “Everything you said is right.  I am the worst older brother,” he finally said in a voice barely holding back a quaver.  “I went back on every promise I made to you when we were children.  I don’t deserve this second chance.  I don’t know what to do with it.”

“Enjoy it, Hanzo,” Genji told him firmly.  “Listen, don’t you ever think that maybe this was meant to happen?  Because I do.  And if this is fated, why not make the best of it?”  Incrementally, Genji moved closer back to his brother, his arm creeping up to touch his hair, his cheek, his shoulder, unable to stop himself from making contact.  Seemingly not noticing his brother having entered his five foot personal space bubble, Hanzo dabbed at his swollen nose and eyes with a scrap of cloth, trying to compose his features into something resembling dignity, though the red flush on his cheeks never quite disappeared.

“Is that what you and Zenyatta had decided in the end?” Hanzo muttered, still not looking at Genji directly, just through quick sideways glances.

Genji nodded.  “Something like that, yeah.”

“Hmph.”  Hanzo looked as if he wanted to add something probably bitter and deprecating to not just himself but to Genji and Zenyatta and everyone else in the world, but finally deflated.  “I would not say I agree with that entirely.  However, I often wondered if perhaps… I managed to avoid death all this time for some purpose.  If the dragons remained with me because they still had a reason to stay on this mortal plane…”  At last, he turned to look at Genji, leaning imperceptibly forward into his brother’s embrace, sighing deeply.  “If you are the reason…”

“I am.”

“You are not reason enough,” Hanzo concluded flatly.  But he was smiling, if a little weakly, and Genji laughed into the crook his brother’s neck. 

“You’re right,” he said.  “I’m not the reason.  We are the reason.  All of us are.  You’re not alone anymore, Hanzo, okay?  I’m strong now, faster than I was before, much more skilled, a little smarter, too.  I can support you, like I wasn’t able to when we were younger.  No matter what path you choose to take, I will be with you.  If you find you can’t walk anymore on your own two legs, I will be there to carry you.  And if I can’t walk for the both of us anymore, Zenyatta and Angela will heal me.  And if they run out of energy, the others will take care of them and help you and me.”

“Is that the power of friendship?” Hanzo interrupted, looking somewhat amused despite his exhaustion.

“Yes.  Friendship is what you have when your family is gone.”

Lowering his eyes, Hanzo seemed to consider this.  “My family is not gone, though,” he said at last.

Genji accepted Hanzo’s sleepy nuzzle with a pleased noise and a few puffs of steam releasing from his shoulders.  “No.  I’m not gone,” Genji repeated.  “I’ll be here for you, anija, I promise.”

“I’m sorry,” Hanzo breathed out faintly, on the verge of nodding off to sleep, apparently exhausted from his emotional ordeal.  One hand clutched at Genji’s forearm fitfully, and with another soft laugh, Genji got up to carry his brother lovingly to his bed.  But not before having immense difficulty lifting Hanzo’s weight, for in this way Hanzo was similar to a cat, seemingly graceful and light-footed until you tried to pick them up from where they were sleeping and then they somehow multiplied their weight by 300 times.  Then Genji realized he may have made his promises without understanding the potential difficulty in keeping them.

 

**Author's Note:**

> some dialogue between the brothers I had wanted to include in the ongoing "hot milky" somehow but could not find a good place to shove in, so here. just headcanons written out in a narrative basically… and posted months after I wrote it because I thought I posted it already lmao...


End file.
